


Silence Remains

by Glass_Oceans



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Post-Battle of Starkiller Base
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 18:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12846882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Oceans/pseuds/Glass_Oceans
Summary: General Hux and Kylo Ren had been co-commanders and the closest each other had to friends, until the destruction of Starkiller Base.In the aftermath of their mutual defeat, that has changed. Is it possible for them to rekindle their relationship?





	Silence Remains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PangolinPirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PangolinPirate/gifts).



> Some time ago, [Pangolinpirate](https://pangolinpirate.tumblr.com/) created [this](https://pangolinpirate.tumblr.com/post/164213953961/cheer-up-ren) art piece, and I fell instantly in love. I begged, pleaded, cajoled, and in face, just asked very nicely if I could write a piece of fic inspired by, and featuring said beauty. And this is the result.

From behind, General Hux looks no different than ever. Straight of back and shoulder, stride measured, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he walks quietly through the corridors of his ship. But to see him as he walks towards you is a different sight altogether. The General’s appearance tells of the stress of recent events; the use and ultimately loss of Starkiller was nothing less than the first volley of an all-out war between the First Order and a corrupt Republic left reeling from the loss of their government and armies. Thought the Supreme Leader is still the head of the First Order, all of the military decisions fall to Hux’s shoulders, and of late, he’s found it to be too heavy a weight to bear alone.

His steps have carried him to his favoured officer’s lounge, quiet at this time in the ship's cycles, infrequently used at other times in deference to his own predilection to be left undisturbed. The serving droid hums to life as he steps over the threshold, preparing him a measure of whiskey and delivering it to his table. The established command allows him to walk through the lounge without stopping to converse with the few other officers present, sitting as his table with his back to the room and his eyes fixed on the stars beyond the transparisteel windows.

Hux sighs as he lifts the glass to his lips, the puff of air stirring up the vapour rising from the spirit, so he can taste it even before he takes the first sip. His eyes flutter half closed as he takes that first drink, savouring the taste and the burn as it slips down his throat, kindling a low fire in his belly. He keeps a superior vintage in his own quarters, and there’s no reason he couldn’t have gone there to drink, but without company, the rooms that serve as both his quarters and private office have become like a prison of late, too much time spent working there without reprieve.

He takes a second drink before setting the glass down and sitting back in his seat. Distant galaxies are mere smudges of light from the Finalizer’s current position. Planetary bodies are few and far between, and Hux wonders idly about how much light the Finalizer herself is irradiating this corner of dead space with, if she serves as a beacon for an unwary traveller. He tilts his head as he ponders this question, almost falling into old habit to speak the thought aloud to his absent companion. He frowns and downs the last of the whiskey in the glass, hand hovering over the table before he places it down again. The droid is over a moment later, replacing the empty glass with a freshly poured measure. Hux picks it up, something to busy his hands, and frowns at the stars.

Hux knows he has climbed so high in his career thanks to having a cool head, able to think quickly under pressure. He’s far from alone though. Every Resurgent-class Battlecruiser in the First Order’s fleet is commanded by an officer like him, though none could boast to having climbed quite as quickly as he has. He’s aware that many of the others dislike him for that alone, thinking his fall from grace is long overdue, that perhaps he should have gone down with his super weapon. Hux feels his lip pull into a smirk at the implication that he would give up so easily. The truth is that the fleet would be lost without him. While the others vie for attention, Hux knows that the faith the Supreme Leader has assigned to him isn’t misplaced, no more than it hasn’t been misplaced in his apprentice.

Hux’s smile fades as his thoughts turn to Kylo Ren. Since returning to the ship, his training completed, Ren has attended only those briefings necessary for his own missions. He no longer joins Hux to stare at the distant points of light, visible from the windows of the lounge or his own quarters. Ren cradling a careful half measure of spirits that he barely tastes, while Hux steadily works through the bottle himself. Ren had been the solitary outlet for Hux’s thoughts and plans, a person to listen as he spilled a puzzle to the room. Ren has a bright mind, and very often he had steered Hux to an answer without either realising it had been done. But more importantly, he is outside Hux’s own chain of command. Ren has no interest in stealing Hux’s position, no interest in his projects as anything other than a way to pass an evening. With Ren, Hux doesn’t have to worry about the information he shared being claimed as another’s, or used against him.

With a sigh, Hux raises the glass to his lips, draining the dregs of his second drink. He sets the glass upside down on the table, and taps his fingers against its base. He becomes aware of a second beat, in harmony with his own, and turns his head slightly as Captain Phasma approaches.

“General Hux.”

“Captain.”

Hux faces forward again as Phasma hovers at his shoulder, the brightness of her armour somewhat obscuring the faint lights beyond the transparisteel. Hux finds himself becoming irritated with her presence, unfairly perhaps.

“Can I help you Captain?”

“I simply wished to check on you, sir.”

“I’m fine Captain, absolutely fine,” Hux says, tapping his fingers against the glass again as he wonders if he shouldn’t have ordered another drink. “Why would you need to check on me?”

Hux twists in his chair to look at the Captain, but her chrome helmet does nothing to give away her intentions. Even so, she nods at Hux, and takes a half step backwards in preparation to withdraw.

“I noted you were without company, sir. It was a change in your routine.”

Hux stands from his chair, adjusting his tunic as he straightens.

“Unfortunately Captain, this is now my routine.”

* * *

Hux’s days have become a relentless grind, with no hope that his circumstances might change for the better any time soon. He’s responsible for carrying forward the visit of the empire his mentor has impressed on him, upholding his father’s legacy of moulding the new stormtroopers of the future, and now the First Order’s youngest general-turned-scapegoat is in charge of their new galactic war. Charged with putting down the rebel alliance singlehandedly, a task not even the old empire could fully accomplish, he knows his position will be sweep aside as a result of his rising too high, too fast if he fails.

He needs a release of some kind. Spending his evenings staring out the viewport with only his reflection for company is only a short term solution, and will see him replaced if he falls too far into his glasses. His position denies him the fury and chaos of the battleground; he can only be where he is, overseeing and issuing orders from the bridge of the Finalizer. At some other time, he could take his rifle from his locker, and have Phasma set up a hunting ground to challenge him. But if times were different, he wouldn’t now be fighting in a war.

Hux sighs as his datapad chirps beside him. He lifts his glass and drains the last of the liquid before picking it up to read the urgent message. The habitual crease between his eyebrows deepens as he scans over the message. At least some people are still able to avail of their usual stress relieving techniques.

Hux storms from the bar, datapad abandoned to be collected by his personal droid. His steps lead him unerringly to the gym facilities that Ren is currently destroying, while his mind fights through the mild alcohol haze to enable him to deliver the tongue lashing he deserves. Hux had thought that Ren’s days of wanton destruction were behind him, that with his new sense of isolation comes a form of control if not peace. Stars, if only his life were so simple.

Hux uses his commander's code to bypass the security lock on the gym door and steps inside. The damage to the facility is nowhere near as extensive as the report suggested. Possibly it was filled by some officer who had a previous altercation with the Force user, and isn’t willing to get close enough to verify the details for themselves. As Hux moves further into the room, he finds his steps slowing until, with the Knight in sight, he comes to a complete halt.

It isn’t possible that Ren is unaware of his presence; he must have noted that the locks were overridden and no doubt knows it was Hux who entered. He told Hux once before, when he actually drank his half measure, that Hux’s mind has an unique signature, one that is both steely calm and frantic energy all at once. Ren had leaned close as he stared into Hux’s eyes and told him that if he wasn’t so necessary to their plans, he would dearly like to pluck apart Hux’s mind, find out how such a thing was structured and organised. Hux had smirked and held the eye contact until Ren looked away.

So Ren has to know he is here now, watching him, and yet he shows no sign of ending his practice. He moves through this forms like a dancer, light on his feet and deadly accurate. A few droids are scattered about him, programmed to randomised attacks to give him no pattern to predict. One or two lay smoking, fitful sparks showering from their hulls, victims of a strike from Ren’s lightsaber, though given the nature of that weapon, it could just as easily be the weapon’s own fault and not a miscalculation on the part of it’s user.

Time seems to slow further as Hux watches, as Ren’s dance becomes more drawn out, his movements becoming impossibly long and far too quick to follow if time takes its natural course. Hux finds himself trying to predict the impossible, the next fall of Ren’s foot, the next touch against a droid to mark his hits.... His foot, there, his left hand, there, a twist of his hips rotating his mass, just so, and suddenly Hux feels the puzzle in his mind fall into place.

* * *

Kylo draws to a halt, pulling himself upright and forcing his shoulders back. Sweat runs freely down his body, and his muscles tremble so much he wants to give in and fall to the ground, collapse and let himself pant like an animal, but he can't allow himself to show such weakness, never again. Especially not when he knows he is being watched by someone who can report on his performance, can report all his weakness and the ways he’s still disappointing his master.

When Kylo is sure he has his breathing under control, he turns and raises his head, finding Hux on the stairs leading down to the training mats, staring at him with an intensity that he has never before experienced. Hux’s hair is a little undone, his cheeks flushed; Ren guesses that he has been in the officer’s bar before coming here to scold him. But he also stands with his chin raised, his body vibrating with energy as if he will fly apart at any moment.

With a sense of trepidation, Kylo reaches out his senses, touching against the General’s mind. He withdraws instantly, turning his body away. Hux is staring at him like he is a knot that has been solved, a tool, a piece that can be moved on the board at will now that Hux understands him. Too many people have looked at him like that before, with no consideration of the person underneath the ability. Kylo maintains his position until he hears the hiss of the door again, the locks reengaging. He draws a deep breath and allows his shoulders to slump. Alone again, the urge to collapse on the floor rises, but he quashes it down, willing himself to leave the room and its debris.

On first returning to the Finalizer, Kylo has attempted to be a model officer, and student of Snoke’s both. He goes without his helmet now, and schools his face to the cold dispassion he has often seen on Hux, outside of his broadcasts and the privacy of his own quarters at least. But being close to Hux, even standing near him at meetings without speaking gives him far too much time to dwell on things between them.

He remembers little after the scavenger cut him down and left him for dead. It was Snoke who informed him that he had been collected from the crumbling surface by Hux himself, albeit at Snoke’s orders. He then began to think of how Hux had seen him then at his lowest; helpless and powerless, could have left him for dead without Snoke’s orders, or killed him if he hadn’t needed him himself. He imagines it must have been similar to how he looked just now in the gym.

Kylo drags a hand through the lank strands of hair falling over his face, pushing them back. He picks up his cloak, draping it loosely around his shoulders before exiting the gym, ignoring the stormtroopers that snap to attention as he passes. He has nowhere else to go on this ship but his quarters, too close by far to Hux’s own, and Kylo cannot shut him out as well as he’d like. Yet another reminder of his weakness.

Kylo stops abruptly, clenching his fists as he snarls at himself. Snoke has taught him that all attachment is weakness, that he should seek out no opinion but his master’s if his mind is not at peace. But Kylo can’t help thinking of the many nights that he spent with Hux in his quarters, sharing a drink and ideas, though for the most part Kylo sat silent, his drink untouched in his gloved hands while Hux paced back and forth, barely able to contain his own energy.

Those were the times when Kylo admired Hux the most, when he could see the potential in him burning bright like the stars he used to power his machines. He’d cocked his head, wondering at the drive in him, and what might have been different if their places were exchanged, or if Hux had been able to bring that energy to bear on the Force like Kylo himself could. He had smirked at his own thought then, looking down at the amber liquid, but Hux had caught the gesture. He had stopped his pacing, watching Kylo intently.

“What?” he asked, slow and drawn out.

Kylo looked up, a little surprised with Hux’s attention, but with the ghost of the smile still on his lips.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

Hux turned himself fully to face Kylo, brows drawn in, one side of his mouth starting to quirk up in response to this unusual input from Kylo.

“It’s not nothing,” he said, moving back to the couch slowly and taking up his seat opposite Kylo. “Tell me what you were thinking of.”

Kylo had looked back down at his glass, watching the stark lights of the room flicker and shatter within the droplets of whiskey that clung to and drifted down the glass, the light transformed to golden colour and gone in a moment as he tilted the drink. He looked back up at Hux who was still fixing him with singular attention, his legs crossed so he sat sideways on the sofa, one arm on the back of the cushions and his own glass dangling half forgotten from his fingers. Hux took a sip from the glass, his tongue darting out to chase away the last glimmering drop. Possibilities Kylo thought. And then he began to explain the Force to Hux.

Snoke had him relinquish this attachment, so when Kylo returned to the Finalizer, he declined Hux’s invitations to his quarters, and avoided the officers bars, though he had no reason to visit them without Hux. It is as Snoke commanded, for his betterment and strength, though Kylo feels the pang of the loss of Hux’s company every time he sees him, can recall vividly the taste of the whiskey Hux favours, due to that one time he had drank the measure Hux had given him.

And now it is too late. Hux has moved on, has found a new project to work on, a new weapon to refine and no longer looks for Kylo to hear his ideas. The invitations no longer come, he knows that Hux has given up on expecting to see him anywhere outside of their scheduled meetings. Kylo did not expect it to strike him quite so badly.

* * *

Hux feels like a man renewed.

All of the problems that have presented themselves in the fleet fall neatly into order, diminishing themselves in his mind and thus easily resolved. It is an energy that charges the fleet as they regroup and prepared for their assault on the Resistance, and Hux’s new energy seem to change their momentum.

He left the gym that night and returned to his quarters, pausing only to pour a drink for himself as he sat at his desk and opened a new file. He didn’t feel the hours pass as he worked, biting his lip to keep his energies harnesses as he ran simulation after simulation, waiting for the programs he had designed to confirm the new specifications he set out. Each test came back with the positive results he was expecting and he could feel his exultation growing.

When his personal datapad chimes with his morning alarm, he starts, then turns back to his terminal with a smile. His glass still lays untouched at his elbow, and he pushes it further away as he finalises the designs and sends them to fabrication. He submits then with highest priority, and with confirmation the design have been received and are already being processed to begin work, he stands to begin his day.

Now it is simply a matter of waiting for the work to be completed, and while he understands the process of engineering such a machine, he finds himself impatiently checking his datapad through the day, watching the project for any sign of progress. He throws himself into his work as his sole means of distraction; he wants this to be a surprise for Ren, and he can’t risk the Force user picking up on the reason for his excitement. So when his datapad pings with a priority alert, during those few seconds that he’s been able to tear his eyes away from it, it is relieving and exciting.

A quick scan of the ship, and Hux is able to locate Ren. The man is even standing in easy view of the security cams; though his back is to them, arms crossed as he looks out over the Finalizer’s manufacturing levels. Hux feels a brief stab of agitation; has Ren figured out his plans? Hux zooms in the feed as much as it would allow, until he can confirm that he merely appears to be watching the motion below. His eyes are closed and his breathing easy. Of all places to stop to meditate Hux thinks, as he hands over command of the bridge and makes his way to where Ren stands.

On entering the room Ren is in, Hux slows, knowing his footsteps have been heard by the Knight, but he gives no indication he is aware of the other man’s presence. Hux has never been a patient man when it comes to waiting on the whims of others, and it isn’t long before he clears his throat to speak.

“Master Ren, I would speak with you.”

That is enough to get this attention. His head snaps up, eyes narrowed as if he suspects someone else of using Hux’s voice. Hux has never addressed Ren in this manner, but it suits him to keep Ren off kilter until he can reveal his latest project.

For Kylo, he can sense Hux’s excitement, the duplicity that lurks just beneath the surface. Though he and Hux have drifted apart, this is a level of cruelty he did not expect from the man. Turning his gaze back to the manufacturing floor below, he tries to put Hux and his temptations from his mind.

Hux frowns as Kylo turns away again. He is not used to being dismissed so quickly, not even by the self-serving knight.

“Ren, I need to speak with you.”

Ren does not so much as turn around this time, pretending to be engrossed in the activity through the transparisteel window.

“Sulking like a child is hardly becoming of an officer of your station.”

Nothing. In normal times Ren would never resist reminding Hux that he exists outside his precious order, even if the last time he’d said it had been with a spark of challenge in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

“Ren-”

“Leave me be, Hux.”

Ren’s shoulders slump as if defeated, handing Hux an imagined victory of words if only he would take it and go. Hux feels his mouth falling open. This simply won’t do. A dozen scenarios tumble through his head as he considers the best way to recapture his attention and focus it on himself when he notices that Ren has forgone his usual gloves, fingers pale as his arms hang limp by his sides. Hux considers how unusual this is, even as he slips off his own glove, grasping it together with his datapad and reaching out with his own hand bare.

 

Ren’s reaction is so slight Hux would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching so carefully. Ren sighs, his throat working as his eyes slip closed again when Hux’s hand brushes against his. Hux reaches further, brushing his fingertips across Ren’s palm, watching his face closely for any hint that he might be rejected, before closing his hand around Ren’s. He feels Ren’s fingers flex minutely against his, and smiles as he takes a step back, and another, leading Ren to the wall of screens on the opposite side of the room.

Kylo is loathe to release Hux’s hand again, even as he knows he needs the use of his dominant hand to activate the screens in front of them. He can’t help but read the emotions that bleed through such naked contact. He can read hints of the plans Hux has made about him, but where there is cunning, there is no malice in it. Excitement for his new plans, his new project, yes, but ones that involve him, not replace him.

Kylo blinks as the screens flicker to light, bright schematics rotating in his view as he takes in the designs. Hux has adopted his usual stance, hands folded behind his back, still holding one glove and the datapad loosely. He is affecting an air of carelessness, but Kylo can see the lines of tension in his body. He’s waiting for Kylo’s judgement, on his opinion on these designs. Intrigued, Kylo leans forward to study them.

Hux watches as Ren studies the modified design, wondering how long it will take him to understand the ramifications of what he has made. Ren reaches into the projection, changing its viewing angle as he reads through the schematics, his face illuminated by the blue light all the while. Hux can’t help but smile as he sees the beginning of hopeful suspicion on Ren’s face as he begins to solve the riddle.

“It’s a new design of TIE fighter,” he says, stepping back from the display.

Hux simply looks at him, his expression conveying that he had hoped for a more indepth summary than a first year cadet could provide. Ren fights the urge to roll his eyes, licking his lips as he continues.

“A specialised design, highly modified. Designed for speed and maneuverability, far beyond what the current ships are capable of. An expert pilot would be needed to fly it.”

“Far more than just an expert,” Hux mutters, unclasping his hands to call up commands on his datapad, watching as the wall of screen begins to retract, showing the realised TIE design sitting, waiting on a launch platform.

Kylo feels his jaw drop open as he takes in the sleek lines of the fighter in front of him. His hands itch to take hold of the controls, as if he knows that the cockpit is made for him alone.

“This is the result of extensive study,” Hux remarks beside him, a smirk on his lips. Kylo thinks back to all of the times that he has seen Hux watching him from the shadows at the edge of his training area, and would be tempted to return his grin if he weren’t so transfixed by the ship in front of him. “As you said, it would have to be piloted by an expert pilot. Specifically one with Force sensitivity.”

That is sufficient to recapture Kylo’s attention. He turns to Hux, not quite able to believe in the implications of what he said. Hux returns his stare, eyes darting over his face as he takes in Kylo’s reaction.

“It’s yours.”

* * *

Hux sighs as he lifts the glass to his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he takes the first sip. This is his first drink in what feels like weeks. He isn’t quite sure how many times he passed by the bottle to reach for caf instead, keeping himself up late in his quarters to push himself to complete his newest project. It all feels worth it now though, as the liquor burns a warming path down his throat, and his eyes sharpen on the inky blankness beyond the transparisteel.

Once again he can hear the tread of Phasma’s boots as she approaches, but she stands far enough back that her armour doesn’t interfere with his view.

“Sir,” she says. “Alone again?”

Hux’s smile broadens, almost feral as he hears the shriek before Phasma does. A TIE fighter screams past the windows, so close as to be dancing in the thin envelope of space between the ship and its shields, and is gone before he can so much as blink.

“No,” he replies, lifting his glass. “Not tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks go to my wonderful beta [Woe](http://woehuxbub.tumblr.com/), who also helped me with the fic hook!


End file.
